’Twist me, and turn me, and show me the Elf—­
     I looked in the water, and saw myself,’

which I certainly did.  What can it mean?  The Old Owl knows, as Granny would say; so I shall go back and ask her.”

“Ask her!” said the Echo.

“Didn’t I say I should?” said Tommy.  “How exasperating you are!  It is very strange. Myself certainly does rhyme, and I wonder I did not think of it long ago.”

“Go,” said the Echo.

“Will you mind your own business, and go to sleep?” said Tommy.  “I am going; I said I should.”

And back he went.  There sat the Old Owl as before.

“Oohoo!” said she, as Tommy climbed up.  “What did you see in the mere?”

“I saw nothing but myself,” said Tommy indignantly.

“And what did you expect to see?” asked the Owl.

“I expected to see a Brownie,” said Tommy; “you told me so.”

“And what are Brownies like, pray?” inquired the Owl.

“The one Granny knew was a useful little fellow, something like a little man,” said Tommy.

“Ah!” said the Owl, “but you know at present this one is an idle little fellow, something like a little man.  Oohoo! oohoo!  Are you quite sure you didn’t see him?”

“Quite,” answered Tommy sharply.  “I saw no one but myself.”

“Hoot! toot!  How touchy we are!  And who are you, pray?”

“I’m not a Brownie,” said Tommy.

“Don’t be too sure,” said the Owl.  “Did you find out the word?”

“No,” said Tommy.  “I could find no word with any meaning that would rhyme but ‘myself.’”

“Well, that runs and rhymes,” said the Owl.  “What do you want?  Where’s your brother now?”

“In bed in the malt-loft,” said Tommy.

“Then now all your questions are answered,” said the Owl, “and you know what wants doing, so go and do it.  Good-night, or rather good-morning, for it is long past midnight;” and the old lady began to shake her feathers for a start.

“Don’t go yet, please,” said Tommy humbly.  “I don’t understand it.  You know I’m not a Brownie, am I?”

“Yes, you are,” said the Owl, “and a very idle one too.  All children are Brownies.”

“But I couldn’t do work like a Brownie,” said Tommy.

“Why not?” inquired the Owl.  “Couldn’t you sweep the floor, light the fire, spread the table, tidy the room, fetch the turf, pick up your own chips, and sort your grandmother’s scraps?  You know ’there’s lots to do.’”

“But I don’t think I should like it,” said Tommy.  “I’d much rather have a Brownie to do it for me.”

“And what would you do meanwhile?” asked the Owl.  “Be idle, I suppose; and what do you suppose is the use of a man’s having children if they do nothing to help him?  Ah! if they only knew how every one would love them if they made themselves useful!”

“But is it really and truly so?” asked Tommy, in a dismal voice.  “Are there no Brownies but children?”